


Old Tempura

by iwasabutt



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Lame attempt at humor, M/M, doesn't really have much to do with tempura, not actually very romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasabutt/pseuds/iwasabutt
Summary: Akashi Seijuurou somehow ends up at Seirin and eats crappy cafeteria food.





	Old Tempura

**Author's Note:**

> I'm obsessed. Help.

“Hello,” Akashi Seijuurou said one day. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Furihata Kouki looked up, startled. Then he whirled his head to the left, and then to the right, and finally turned a one-eighty.

No one was there. _Maybe he’s talking to his_ other _self?_ Furihata wondered.

Akashi raised an eyebrow, amused. “You haven’t checked under the table yet,” he said helpfully.

He was staring straight at _Furihata_ , sure, but…

“Do you mind if I sit here?” the Rakuzan captain repeated. For emphasis, he spoke slowly and even pointed at the spot right next to Furihata, which sort of made the latter feel like a caveman.

“Y-Yes!” was the garbled sound that escaped Furihata’s lips, a hybrid between a squeak and a shout.

He was already scooting his butt away to make room for the other boy when Akashi nodded once. “I see.” Then to Furihata’s confusion, he turned and walked away.

Furihata’s eyes widened in realization. “I mean, no! I mean—yes, you can sit here, and no, I don’t mind,” he elaborated, very intelligently. He wanted to whack his malfunctioning brain with the rock-hard burger the Seirin cafeteria served that day.

Akashi smiled in thanks, and he descended upon the table of openmouthed high school boys like a phoenix in flight. He politely ignored the various food items oozing from Kagami Taiga’s mouth and placed his tray on the table.

“ _Itadakimasu,”_ he said quietly, and dug in, his lacquered chopsticks looking rather strange against the plebian grub on his plate.

He didn’t seem to notice the strange looks he was receiving. Instead, he gracefully ate the five week-old tempura on his plate. (Seirin was a new school, with an inadequate budget that prioritized things far more important than their students’ sustenance, but mostly everyone was smart enough to bring bentos at this point, anyway.)

The Seirin coach and captain exchanged alarmed glances, but protectively zipped their mouths, lest some treasured basketball info be leaked to the enemy. Flabbergasted Izuki couldn’t form a single pun about the situation, absurd as it was. Kawahara and Fukuda sat mum, and so did Kiyoshi. And so for once, Mitobe didn’t seem so out of place.

“Hello, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko greeted, being the only one who didn’t look like a water-deprived fish.

“Dude!” Kagami finally exploded, spewing his mouth-stewed broccoli and beef at Koganei, who let out a very manly shriek. “You don’t even go to this school!”

A frown creased Akashi’s forehead. “I don’t?”

A pregnant pause shrouded the basketball team’s table. And the entire cafeteria, as well, because everyone was wondering what the fuck was going on, and (for those who weren’t really big followers of shogi, violin, basketball, and…well, pretty much anything that could be excelled at and be the subject of some tournament that could be won) who the hell that handsome, redheaded new student was.

The new student, who was wearing the Rakuzan uniform.

“Oh, well. That’s rather unfortunate.” Akashi drew his chopsticks together with a _clack._ He turned to Furihata. “By the way, may I have your phone number?”

 “I advise that you give it to him, Furihata-kun,” Kuroko said automatically, in a slightly more monotonous tone than usual. “This version of him is milder, but no less absolute.” His eye twitched slightly, and he gave his former captain a look that was positively evil, blank as it was.

The things he did for a year’s supply of vanilla milkshake…

Furihata dumbly recited his phone number, unable to tear his gaze from the bright red gems that ensnared his.

“Well,” Akashi said pleasantly, getting up from his seat, “it was very nice to see you again, Seirin. Until the next game.”

And then Akashi left, just as quickly as he randomly appeared.

And not one person who has ever claimed to know the name “Akashi Seijuurou” can deny that the dude was _smooth_.

(…Unfortunately, Kuroko Tetsuya couldn’t be remembered as the best wingman to roam the earth—which he definitely was—simply because he usually couldn’t be remembered _at all._ )

**Author's Note:**

> Akafuri is driving me insane


End file.
